Coffee
by saketini
Summary: Canonverse Rusame. America visits Russia in St. Petersburg for New Years with dancing and vodka. Takes place a few months after "Sun Tea" but this can easily be read without having read the other.


_I think it's only fair that America should get to visit Russia as well._

яблочное печенье/yablochnoye pechen'ye: apple cookies

Один, два, три/Odin, dva, tri: one, two, three

Мой Америка/Moy Amerika: My America

* * *

_Новый Год, Санкт-Петербург_

_New Year's Day, St. Petersburg _

America padded along the long hall in woolen socks, sodden boots knotted around his fingers by their laces. They had returned to the other's apartment after their New Year's celebrations to warm up. Russia had left him in the entryway to tend to something in the kitchen and he had decided to wander rather than wait.

For a change this year, they had elected to skip the crowds in Moscow or New York. After deciding they still wanted to spend it in a city and skimming through a variety of maps, they had chosen the slightly less crowded St. Petersburg for their holiday together. America had arrived yesterday morning, crashing for a nap on the couch before being awoken for a quick snack and a dash towards their intended New Year's Eve plans.

He found the nearest bathroom and tossed the shoes in the tub with a clunk. Trailing back the way he came, he walked in what he vaguely remembered was the right direction towards the sitting room and adjoining master bedroom.

They had started on Vasilyevski Island, catching the fireworks from the Strelka before heading into the bars in the city. America had unearthed his Russian skills amid intoxicated singing and private kisses promising of more to come hidden away in dark corners. After what they figured was an appropriate amount of socializing, they had walked hand-in-hand back to Russia's apartment in the city center while America attempted to catch snowflakes on his tongue.

Finding his destination, America dropped his scarf and mittens on a nearby table and flopped on a rug in front of the lit fireplace. He leaned back to eye the gold swirls along the crown molding, spinning ornate circles towards the chandelier in the middle. Soft footsteps behind him alerted him to the other's return.

"How'd you find me so fast?"

"You left breadcrumbs," Russia inclined his head towards the trail of drips that had scattered along the parquet floors in his wake.

"Oops."

"Oops, indeed."

Russia was still in a pleasant mood, hair fluffed up from his hat and cheeks flushed from the cold and a heavy dose of vodka. A silver tray was in his hands, laden with a matching coffee pot and cups surrounded by plates of mini desserts. He set the tray beside America on the floor. He sat down behind the blond and wrapped his arms around his waist to rest his chin on his shoulder.

"No more vodka for you, but I brought coffee and cakes. You like sweets."

"Yes! Love you!"

Russia hummed contentedly. America set himself to work in pouring their drinks, cream for Russia and all sugar for himself. Coffee cakes and cookies reflected off of the silver as the bright sugars sparkled in the firelight.

"Isn't the weather here supposed to be more mild than Moscow's?"

"It usually is."

If he was being honest with himself, it was cold but not unbearably so. There were many colder places they could have ended up for the New Year.

_Anchorage, Fairbanks, Juneau_

If he was being _completely _honest with himself, America rather liked Winter. Fond memories danced to mind of ice sailing on the Hudson and hockey games with his brother. Hockey games that always seemed to end with England fussing over their bruises with hot tea and warm blankets.

"What are these?"

He picked up a golden cookie dusted with powdered sugar, turning slightly to hold it up for the other's inspection.

"яблочное печенье, apple cookies."

He nodded quickly in affirmation before popping one in his mouth, savoring the smooth baked apple nestled in the sweet cookie. He laughed gently as the other grabbed his hand to kiss the remaining powder off his fingertips.

"These are good, we should make these together sometime."

"Yes," Russia squeezed his arms around him tightly and buried his nose in his hair.

He leaned back into the other's embrace as he sipped his coffee, enjoying the warmth in his hands and around his back. If he remembered correctly, the walls had once been painted a deep burgundy. Nowadays, however, they had been redone with bright white paneling and plaster to complement the existing gold trims and soft honey-colored flooring. Light blue curtains had been pulled back with tassels to reveal a view of the city below them. Residents and tourists continued to walk the streets while straggling fireworks could still be seen occasionally lighting up the night sky. Opposite the window was a set of double doors that had been left open to their bedroom.

Midway through his third sugar plum he noticed the other's fingers were inching under his sweater, fingers that were always slightly cooler to the touch than his own. He set down the now empty coffee cup and turned to meet Russia for a kiss, savoring the sugar that had lingered over his wind-chapped lips.

"I like this apartment," he pulled back with a smile. "We don't come here much."

"Moscow is usually more convenient."

"It wasn't always. Hey," he angled his head back to make sure the other was listening, "What did you used to do here for New Years? When I saw you back then it was usually at France's party or mine."

"Ah," he paused to collect his thoughts, a wistful smile beginning to curl at the corner of his lips. "More of the same. Drinking and singing and dancing. We used to dance more."

"You like dancing."

"Yes," he stood and pulled America up with him with guiding hands under his arms.

"Dance with me," he explained as an afterthought. "It was mine but France taught you before I could," there was an irritated twitch of his brow at that memory. "He called it…_valse à deux temps_?"

America huffed in mock indignation for pride's sake when the other began to lead, one hand clasping his while he felt the other settle snuggly at the small of his back. He had frowned at France when he had first explained it to him after learning it from Russia. A two-step dance that somehow fit the three beat waltz. In practice, however, it made sense, a gentle twirl around the ballroom as opposed to the dizzying spins of its Viennese cousin.

"You can lead when we dance one of yours."

_One, two, three._

"I sometimes miss the dancing," Russia confessed. "There's also a bridge you're supposed to go to and share a kiss. It's not just a New Year's event, but some of the braver would sneak out there in the cold with their lovers. I've never tried it."

America blushed and stared at the other man's shoulder with a smile.

Slide of the right foot with a pause, quick catch of the left to join. He laughed in embarrassment as his awkwardly large steps spun them away from the fire and around the table. Their pace righted itself as he flipped his foxtrot inspired _slow-quick-quick_ steps to a _quick-quick-slow_, falling back into a long forgotten rhythm.

_Один, два, три._

He tapped the pace out with fingers that rested on Russia's shoulder. The music was in their heads, dusted off from 19th century memories to drown out the noises from the city outside. He laughed again as he realized where he was being led.

"The bed? Really?"

"You like romantic," was the new explanation.

_Quick-quick-slow with a kiss, Sunshine._

More kisses, along the full bow of his lips to his cheek and the curve behind his ear. The hand around his back tightened on his shirt before sliding under to brush skin. America felt the backs of his knees bump against the plush mattress behind him. He slid his own hand that had been resting on Russia's shoulder into his hair, tugging gently at the curled ends of the locks. With a tug of their still clasped hands, he pulled them back to fall into the blankets.

"So, did you always used to dance your partners to bed?"

"Well not_ always._"

"…Nope, I'm done. Going home," he made to stand up before Russia pushed him down with a laugh and a kiss. A few of the extra pillows fell off the bed with their movement as they rolled into the center.

He gave in when the other returned his lips to the spur of bone behind his jaw to trail feather-light kisses up to his ear.

_More._

America slid his hands up and under the other's scarf. He tugged gently, unknotting it from around his neck to fold it behind his own head on the pillow. He allowed his fingers to trail back up along the other's throat, following a scar around to the nape of his neck to run along his spine. Russia's kisses twisted into drags of teeth along his earlobe followed by firm bites and tugs.

The fire in the other room was the only source of lighting. Warm, honey-colored light threaded into the other's hair, softening the pale blond into a golden glow.

The other pulled back to remove his shirt and America watched Russia as he crawled across the bed to the nightstand. A drawer was popped open with a sharp snap and he slid back with a bottle in hand.

Excited fingers pulled at his sweater while heated murmurs in a foreign tongue urged him to lift his arms so it could be removed. The scratching wool rubbed at his skin before it was tossed to the floor and he welcomed the cool hands caressing his sides that replaced it. The fingers trailed back up, pinching at his nipples and tugging at his dog tags before they caressed at his face. Russia pulled off his glasses gently, the frames winking in the firelight as he folded them and placed them on the nightstand.

He brought up his own hands to trail along Russia's arms, admiring the curves and dips of firm muscles beneath his touch. Reaching the other's shoulders, he curled his hands back around in falsely gentle motions to caress at his back.

America pulled himself up to whisper a warning in the other's ear, "_Один, два, три."_

He felt as much as saw the skin across Russia's ears flush with a warm blush before he dug in his nails, scoring thin red lines down his back as he clawed them to his hips.

_"Not always," means sometimes you did, doesn't it?_

The other pushed down firmly into him, dragging their still clothed erections together. A gentle kiss was placed on his nose as Russia rested his hands on tanned hips to swirl circles along the jut of bone with his thumbs. America dug in his nails in more firmly in response.

Russia slid his lips down to his mouth and pulled him up from the mattress by his hips to press their bodies together. In order to keep his balance, America relaxed his hold on the older man's pelvis to wrap his arms around his neck, tilting his head up into his touch. America could feel him smiling before he opened his mouth to glide his tongue along his lower lip. Quickly giving in, he opened his own to chase the lingering burn of vodka and coffee on the other's tongue and lips. His vision spun as his skin burned.

He let out a surprised gasp as he fell back down into the sheets when Russia released him. He felt the mattress dip beneath them as the other braced his hands on either side of his head. Scalding kisses were lined down his neck and across his shoulders and he sighed happily in response. One of the other's hands moved to tug at his belt, loosening it with a clink before tossing it off the edge of the bed. Lips and tongue brushed down his chest before a bite on his stomach caused him to gasp once more.

America tensed as he felt the button of his jeans being removed so that they could be pulled down. They joined the rest of his clothes on the floor and he twisted into the sheets beneath him.

Russia pulled back to watch him and he felt his face heat up in a warm blush that must have been visible even in the dim light. America reached out, running his fingers through his hair as it shimmered.

_Like spun sugar. _

The other had returned to spinning circles on his hips with chilled fingers. The cool touch looped around the sharp cut of his hip before trailing down, sliding into the dip where the join met the curve of his thigh before caressing inwards along his own feverishly warm skin.

He mimicked the pace with his fingers in the other's hair, watching the locks dance around his fingertips before carding his nails through it to watch it flutter back into place.

_One, two, three. _

A click alerted him to the opening of the lubricant and he let his head fall back against the scarf and pillows. More kisses were placed on his stomach as fingers ran lightly along his cock before pulling away. He sighed as he felt the cool slide of fingers up the inside of his thighs, pinching in a tease that made his flesh goose bump and tingle.

"Cute,_" _Russia whispered.

One slick finger was slipped inside for sudden pressure. America pretended he couldn't feel his own blush swiping back across his face as he ran his tongue along his lower lip. He focused on making his muscles remember to relax. Arching against the soft cotton beneath him, he twisted into the other's hand. He pulled up his legs, fastening them into a knot around Russia's hips.

Russia smiled gently and leaned forward to tug at his lips with his teeth.

"Not always to bed," he pressed into his mouth, "Because you weren't always there."

And his cheeks _burned_.

"Youdid that on _purpose_," he choked out with a gasp as another finger was abruptly added.

Russia laughed softly before burrowing his face into the warm curve of America's throat. Words that sounded suspiciously like _Мой Америка is very cute_ were mumbled into his skin.

He pulled his own arms back up to twine them around the other man's neck. His eyes trailed up to the canopy above them, thick sweeping velvet hiding them from the ceiling.

"I'm not apologizing."

_Not pouting either._

"I wouldn't want you to," he felt as much as heard Russia laugh onto his skin.

He curled in tighter as the fingers finally pressed in at the right angle, a warm jolt finding its way up his spine. It was a feeling he craved but could never quite recreate on his own. A twisting tightness that made him arch his neck and curl down to his toes. He tightened the grip of his legs around the other's hip, pulling himself closer to rub his erection against the silky fabric of his trousers.

"More," he heard fall from his lips.

America pulled back his right arm to swipe it across the sheets, making slow one-winged snow angels in the bedding as he searched for the bottle. The other continued to press and swipe and twist with his fingers, brushing firmly against his prostate to watch him arch and sigh and interrupt his search. Finally finding it, he pulled the bottle in close to wedge it against his side as he set to work on Russia's belt.

"Just let me get you naked," he said with a breathless laugh as the other continued to move his fingers.

Lips were moving gently at the taunt lines of neck, drifting up to drop soft kisses and even softer endearments into his ear. He pulled at the belt in jerking motions, distracted by the fingers that worked inside him, before it slid free and tossed it to the side. After unbuttoning them, he yanked at the other's pants until he took the hint and moved to slide them off with his free hand.

He grabbed at the bottle to spill the liquid across his fingers and reached down to grab at the other man's cock. America smiled delightedly when he finally earned a gasp from the Russian. He swirled fingers around the head before trailing down with his touch and swiping up to coat him fully. Russia's eyelashes were fluttering against his cheek. America still felt warm.

_One, two, and —_

Relaxing his grip, he dragged hot fingers from base to tip, listening to the sharp inhale in his ear. America twirled circles around the head with his index finger, mimicking the pace of the fingers inside him. He ran his fingers along the slit to mix precum with lubricant in his hands before gripping and dragging down firmly.

Russia lifted his head to lean his forehead against America's and meet his eyes.

"Three," Russia confirmed as he removed his fingers.

America smiled.

The other man returned his hands to his hips, sliding him along the bedding to hold him closer. He exhaled as he willed himself to stay relaxed. As the cock nudged against him and was pushed gently in, he arched back his neck into the pillows, feeling the scarf that lay there brushing at his neck with his movement. The thumbs at his hips had resumed their spinning caresses. Russia leaned closer, saying things that sounded gentle and sweet but all far too softly whispered for America to make out over his own gasps.

He reached up his clean hand to run it through Russia's hair. The strands still felt cool between his fingers, refreshing like the other side of a pillow on a long hot night. America let his hand drift downwards, along the other's face and down his neck to brush his shoulder, running down his arm to rest gently over the hand that held his hip. He could still feel his own lashes fluttering as Russia began to move.

Squeezing firmly at the hand that held him, he shifted his hips into the thrusts until his prostate was struck. He jerked back and closed his eyes with a sudden moan and knew without needing to see that Russia was also smiling.

The pressure ached pleasantly as he burned and arched into the touch. A tension coiled tighter knots into his stomach with each successive thrust and stars dusted at the edges of his vision. He shifted one one of his legs over the other's shoulder so he could push deeper while keeping the other looped tightly around his back. Russia held his leg in place with a firm hand and a trail of hot kisses on his inner thigh. The other then leaned forward, pressing his lips into his hair to whisper more affection.

_Not always because me too. Me too, my darling. _

He gave up on trying to choke down his sighs and moans and _ah's_, squeezing instead at the hand that still rested on his hip. His thigh was being pressed into his chest with every push and thrust as he used his other leg to pull the other impossibly closer. The tension inside him was burning tighter in his stomach and his back was fully arched off of the bed with his twists. It was too hot and he ached and he realized he could feel the fingers of his free hand trembling.

Russia removed his hand from where it had been trapped against his hip, reaching up to cup his cheek and run soothing circles under his eyes. America could feel his heart begin to tense with the same ache and it was all too much. He grabbed at Russia to pull him down for an openmouthed kiss, wanting all teeth and vodka and coffee for his sugar. He reached down between them to grab at himself, fingers still slick from preparing the other, and stroked.

He could hear Russia's breath coming out in gasps and the fingers holding up his leg were slipping. With a final wordless moan he shuddered forward into him with a sharp push and sudden stillness. Russia turned his head to push their mouths together, licking at his lips and teeth as he brought his hand up to join with America's. A few final twists and swirls and spins had him finishing as well, spilling between their fingers.

He felt warm and his skin tingled against the other's touch and the soft sheets beneath his back. Russia rolled off of him, wrapping his arms around his waist to tug him into his chest. Cool fingers danced circles across his shoulder blades and down his spine in a calming caress. America twined their legs together and smiled.

America shifted in his Russian's hold, tucking his head under his chin.

"Hey, Sunshine," he whispered in a voice honeyed with affection. "You never said, where's that bridge of kisses?"

* * *

_Not so secret obsession with America whispering things in Russian but Russia likes it too so it's okay._

_The Bridge of Kisses is called Поцелуев Мост/Potseluev Bridge._


End file.
